The Decemberists
Whatever happened to simple. The simple ways that things worked. It was simply a cheeseburger, not a Fuddrucker’s "fucking put me out of my misery" two and a half pound calf on a bakers dozen. There were only three channels to choose from, two of which were fuzzy. A time when we still had good movies to choose from? Times when people still used real fucking butter. Does anyone even remember what real butter tastes like? What about when it was simple to find good music. No hoops to jump through in order to find a decent fucking artist. No underground music cult you had to belong to in order to get a few reputable names. Then you ask yourself: "Was it my generation or the one before?". Then you remind yourself that you really don’t give a shit who’s fault it is. You just want some fucking answers. Like Why? Just of few "Why the fuck?"-fill in the blank moments. That’s probably bullshit though. I venture to guess that all the answers in the world wouldn’t make life any less shitty. So you find yourself wondering. An entire life spent on wondering. Wondering about this or that. Always wondering and never doing anything about it. Story of the story of this person I know who knows this other person who said it was their life. If things were just simple again, then it would be the story of my life. However, since history tells us that things only get more complicated, the story is not mine. It has evolved and evolution only makes things more difficult. We’re the proof. How do you figure out how to make it simple again? Where do you begin when you’ve come so far? Then you stumble and when you look up you see it staring you in the face as plain and simple as it can. And you want it so badly because it’s what you’ve been searching for but you’re evolved self is getting in the way. So you tell yourself: "Stop being your evolved self dammit!". The problem lies in that your simple self is not as intelligent as your evolved self. And so you go on with life. What can you do about it? Nothing is simple anymore. You read the news, watch TV, drink a beer, scratch your ass at inopportune times, take your daily’s, make some money, dish it back out plus more, eat, breathe, think, fuck, cry and laugh. Laugh at life. Laugh hard so as not to cry or puke when it kicks your stomach into your spine. Laughter is the key to all predicaments or ailments. I should know. After all I am registering it as a trademark. And what you will find even more funny is that fact that this post had nothing at all to do with the title. I have no idea what I was thinking when I typed that. I don’t even know what the hell I am talking about. Interesting…
